Baby Breath revised - John Andrew Durler Sr. (best thriller novels of all time TXT) 📗

rehab ward.
"I have no intention of going near you or your baby. It's a coincidence I just saw you as I was taking a walk through the village and remembered you. I heard the story about you, and Silas David, and Seeben, and thought by some remote chance it was you. I was curious, that's all. Actually, I'm interested in adopting a living baby, not one who's dead. I heard from Jake you sold the baby, then wanted it back, and when you were told no, you sued Silas David."

"I never sold my baby. She was to be taken care of. Silas David visited me in the hospital and said I could have her back when my health got better, that I couldn't take care of her, and social services would take her away from me and put her in foster care because I was too sick to properly care for her. He said when I got better, they'd fill out more papers and I could get her back. I signed a lot of papers. After I gave birth, she was gone. He had arranged for her to be taken. When I was better and went to see him to get her back he told me the contract I signed never said I could get her back. The deal, he said, was all my expenses would be taken care of and I was to be paid, less his finders fee. He showed me a bank account with six thousand dollars in my name. It had my signature on it. I didn't remember signing it."

So the skinny money smelling kid and his fat pig of a brother in law were liars. Alex felt giddy, impetuous, as if he could do anything and it didn't matter. He looked her over and saw a child bearer and with a little weight loss she'd be a knockout. Opportunity comes, he thought, and if you don't see it, it's gone.

"I have a proposition for you." He blurted it out. "If you agree to be a surrogate mother, I'll pay all your expenses, and you can visit the baby for the rest of your life, and I'll support you for the rest of your life. You can even live with me. How's that? C'mon. You might even get to love me."

Her eyes dropped. "I'm not that kind of woman? I couldn't do that. I'm married and it would be a sin."

"But didn't your boyfriend leave you before you got married? This would be the same as it was with your boy friend, I mean making love. I would want the baby and wouldn't leave you because I wanted to skip supporting it. . It wouldn't be carnal. It would be just for you to have my baby. It's only sin when lust is involved."

She looked at me suspiciously. "You're lusting at me right now. I can feel it." Her voice grated, accusing, "You want to have carnal knowledge of me. I know your kind. Filth! Scum!"

Bad Idea Alex, I thought.

She clenched her hands and pressed them against her chin, crouched and shook like a kicked puppy as she backed away from me.

"Oh My God, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything at all like that. I Just, well, want a baby so much. I miss mine as much as you miss yours." Alex sat down by her and reached out to put his hand on her shoulder. She turned abruptly, eyes full of disgust and rage as his outstretched hand fell full on her breast, grabbing it, not her shoulder.

She screamed. "Rape! Rape!" Help me! Help meee!"

He backed away, turned, and ran up Main street to Deer Park Ave, ducked into an alley, cut across another street, found a dumpster and climbed in. Three hours later he climbed out stinking like the raw garbage he just wallowed in. He walked carefully, avoiding people, and stayed in shadows as much as he could and then slipped into the Post Office Cafe at twelve thirty that night.

*********************

There were couples in the booths on the other side of the wood rails across from the bar. The crowd was gone. Three grubby looking men and a preppy looking guy in a shark skin suit were lined up with ample room for private drinking between them. Alex sat on a stool at the end of the bar, his back to the door.

Harry came over. "The baby guy." He whispered conspiratorially, "contact her? Get yourself a baby?" Harry's nose wrinkled. "Shit. Alex! You smell like puke. He moved back away from the ripe smell. Alex told Harry about Norma and the dead baby, the scene by the park and the dumpster.

"Jesus Christ! What's going on with you and these dead babies? It's crazy, like something is following you. Holy shit. Alex, I think you're jinxed. You think maybe it's all bad luck? And a dumpster? That's why you smell so bad." Then his eyes grew wide, a mixture of disbelief and approval flashing and he grinned, lighting a Tiparillo.

"You make your own luck Harry, for the most part. Nothing like being jinxed, but hey, you do what you have to do to change luck when it's bad. That's why I put an ad in Newsday."

"You're really obsessed with getting a baby, aren't you? Why don't you just get married again?"

"It would take too long. The whole deal about finding a woman is too much for me to handle right now. There was only one woman in my life and I married her too quick. I wanted to have a baby. She didn't, she told me after we were married. Actually, Jenny was a mistake. She didn't have her diaphragm one night and I used a rubber I had in my wallet for two years. I guess it dried out. God, was she fucking pissed when she found out she was pregnant."

"Jesus. I never use them things. I got the big V." "Don't you ever want kids Harry? How old are you?

"Thirty Seven. I don't know, I never thought about it, but I can always have the V turned back to an O if I ever meet someone I want to have a family with. You can freshen up in the back if you want. Alex, what'll you have, Dewars Black Label?"

"Uh, uh, you remembered, though."

"That's my job."

"I'll have a tap beer."
釘ud or Heineken?"

"Heineken."

He pulled an ice cold mug out of the freezer, tipped the glass and slowly poured the beer, and let the head fall on the tap drain. Alex got an amber glass of Heineken, a thin skull of suds on top. Harry stood back and lit another Tiparillo.

"So what are you doing?" Harry asked.

"I'm at a standstill. I went to church."

"That's a good thing to do."

"I'll see."

Alex had another beer, went to his car, and turned toward home. The street lights streamed through the car window as his cigarette smoke billowed up, spreading over the windshield in the form of an angel, which hung there for a few seconds then started to
fade. He puffed until the tip was two inches long, flipped it out, snapped the filter off another and lit it, trying to keep it there. It faded despite his efforts. Alex never heard of anybody blowing an angel in the air.

He mused, the next time I see Harry I'll ask him if he had ever seen or heard of anyone doing that. He waited for another spiritual sign on the way home, but nothing else out of the ordinary occurred. Still musing about the angel, he fell asleep on the couch watching television. The next morning, up at six, Alex checked the machine. There was one baby message, not asking for one, but selling one. "I have what you want. Be at the back of Southside Hospital at seven o'clock tomorrow morning. Leave a brown paper bag with
three thousand dollars at the bottom, wrapped up with a container of 7-11 coffee and a donut on top. On the top of the bag write on a piece of ruled paper ripped off of a spiral notebook, write: "Do not steal my breakfast. I'll be right back" Place it alongside the rear emergency door. I'll be wearing a white lace blouse and blue jeans."

***************

The next morning at six thirty, Alex drove down main street with a brown paper bag. Inside, on the bottom there was an envelope with 30 one hundred dollar bills. On top of the envelope there was a container of 7-11 coffee and a jelly donut. A note written on ruled lined paper torn from a spiral notebook was scotch taped to the top of the bag. A sign came up across the street, "Southside Hospital." Alex turned in, drove around the back and stopped by an old man sitting on the rail of the emergency ramp. His eyes pierced into Alex, locking his eyes to him. Alex felt an enormous sense of euphoria and spirituality. He pulled his eyes away and ran them over the old man. His lion like head of hair and his flowing beard reminded him of the picture of God in his first catechism. .He hitched up his baggy pants, pulled at his crotch and walked over to where Alex had stopped. His gait was that of a younger man but his steel blue eyes were those of a much older one. He asked, yellow teeth widened in a lopsided grin "Got a cigarette mister?"

"Oh God! Yes." Alex offered him his pack, handing him a Bic he got free with three packs.
The man stuck a cigarette in his mouth. The flame shot up as he lit it, singing his beard. His eyes went blank for a full minute, staring through Alex to somewhere else. He spoke, his voice shaking in anger. "You got a mother of a blow torch here mister. I thought I was in Nam with the crazy ducking generals."

"I'm sorry, I never use it. I have a lighter in the car." He handed the Bic and cigarettes back, minus a small handful he put in his coat.

"Thanks a lot. Got a twenty for a cup of coffee?"

Not thinking, Alex reached in his pocket and pulled out a ten. He plucked it out of Alex's hand and slipped it into the pocket the cigarettes went into.

"Thanks. You owe me ten." He stared at Alex, eyes drilling into his head. "You belong here, did you know that? You should hang around, relax, maybe I'll bring you back a cup of coffee--unless you find someone else." He walked backward down the side of the hospital, watching Alex, turned at the sidewalk, and slipped out of sight. Alex, in a daze, took the brown paper bag and walked up to the emergency ramp, put it beside the door, went back to his car, put the seat back, slid down, and waited. An hour later, as he started to day dream, a beat up, black, Chevrolet hatch back, pulled up in front of him. He rubbed his eyes, cleared his head and watched the Chevy. A young girl dressed in blue jeans and a white lace blouse, with red hair, about five foot eight, hopped out. She came around to the back of the jeep, opened the hatch and took out a